


i like my body when it is with your body

by cmbing



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, jake is hot and everyone knows it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22788034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmbing/pseuds/cmbing
Summary: “Have you seen that really hot detective up on the fourth floor?”“Have I? I’ll admit it—I have snuck up to use their copier just to see him.”(or, amy finds out that jake is the hot guy of the precinct)
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 33
Kudos: 435





	i like my body when it is with your body

**Author's Note:**

> i made a post about this on tumblr and well.... the fic just had to be written. i don't understand how seven seasons in no one has made a passing comment about how HOT jake is. especially season 7. we all saw him in that grey NYPD shirt in 7x01. i can't stop thinking about it. and neither should anyone else on the show :)

“Have you seen that really hot detective up on the fourth floor?”

“ _Have I_? I’ll admit it—I have snuck up to use their copier just to see him.”

“Like seriously, cops shouldn’t be _that_ attractive. It makes the whole handcuffs idea so less scary…”

“…and a lot more sexy.”

Amy lifts her gaze up toward two of her uniformed officers gossiping away like they’re in high school. She stops typing for a moment to hear them better, wondering who they could be talking about. Charles could be cute in an off-beat way, she supposes, and Terry has the muscles going for him, and there’s the new guy that was hired, fresh from the academy and impossibly blue-eyed. Unless…

“My friend Madison used to work in the 99th before being transferred to the 87th,” Officer Jess Hadden says, leaning closer to her fellow officer like she’s telling a secret, “and she says he used to have the wildest hair.”

“Really?” Officer Layla Beckett asks, eyes wider.

“Oh yeah,” Jess replies. “It was a huge mop of curls. Totally dorky.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Completely serious. But then one day he cut off all his hair and it kept going from there.”

“Wow.”

“It’s the perfect glow up.”

Layla sighs wistfully. “Too bad he’s married.”

Amy has to hold up her jaw in the palm of her hand to keep it from dropping. They aren’t just talking about _a_ detective. They’re talking about _her husband_. 

“Married to our own boss, no less,” Jess laments. “What are the odds?”

“I wonder if she knows how lucky she is,” Layla wonders, her gaze slightly dreamy.

Amy does, in fact, know how lucky she is. With that said, she tends not to think about Jake in terms of his looks. She thinks about his kindness, the way he leads with his heart and lets his sympathetic words follow. She thinks of his laugh, a cacophony of brash joy and branded smirks. How he holds her hand tighter after a long case and leans his forehead into hers when he struggles to stand steady on his own. The smell of his plaid shirts, how she sinks into the soft fabric and he looks at her as if she is named best dressed on the red carpet. In him, she finds herself.

But she supposes she can be selfish too; she wouldn’t be with Jake if she didn’t find him at least a little bit attractive. Except, what was once mere dorky and childish antics, his wide grin and tousled hair, has blurred the lines between him being adorable, something of a schoolgirl crush on the class clown, and him being, well, _hot_. 

His arms flexing under the weight of a gun, the bend and curve of lean muscle. The occasions in which he has to wear his navy police uniform, his jawline appearing sharper, more defined. His shoulders when he wears his taut NYPD tee. How she yearns to wrap his tie around her hand, watch the way his lips curve into a smirk and his eyes leer, and pull him into the nearest supply closet. 

Then, there are the days when a case doesn’t go right: quiet and serious, his mouth set into a line, the mutterings of _fuck_ and _asshole._ How his eyes darken and his hands grip his desk, his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his veins thrumming. Some nights, he drinks tea and watches Property Brothers and lets the anger burn off. Other nights, his body presses her against a wall, solid and hard; his fingers cradle her face and his knee slots between her legs; her fingers thread through his curls; his mouth, hot and ravenous. He lifts her into his arms to carry her back to their bedroom, his biceps making it look all so easy. That and that and _that._ That kind of attractiveness they’ll never know.

Her phone buzzes next to her, breaking her out of her daydream. She glances over; it’s Jake.

**Jake Peralta (12:33)** : u wanna grab lunch? my treat

**Amy Santiago (12:34** ): Sure, babe. I’ll be upstairs in a second.

Amy gathers her things and looks over at her two beat cops, both nose-deep in paperwork, pen in hand and eyebrows furrowed. Pulling on her winter coat, Amy walks past Layla and Jess and says, “Don’t worry, I do know how lucky I am.”

The rookies burn in embarrassment, cheeks a glowing red, as Amy steps onto the elevator and the doors slide shut.

* * *

“Babe, we gotta come here more often,” Jake mumbles, mouth full of Pad See Ew. “They make vegetables taste _good_.” 

Amy lets out a laugh. “You’re thirty-eight years old, Jake.”

“And vegetables still taste bad. I don’t see your point.”

She digs into her own plate of Pad Thai, knowing she’ll never win that argument. “How has your morning been?”

“Boring, boring the sequel, boring: Tokyo Drift. I got sent out to some old woman’s apartment this morning. She thought that she got robbed, but really she dropped her glasses and just couldn’t see anything. Beyond that, I’ve just been looking forward to seeing you.”

She can’t help but smile. “Aw.”

“And how much I want to _Slytherin—_ “

“Nope, we’re not going that again.”

“How much I want to die _hard_ —“

“Just eat your vegetables, Peralta.” 

Jake takes another bite. “Fine, fine. So, how was your day?”

“Pretty good. The new binders I ordered came in, my cops have been following our filing system better, the printer got fixed—“ she stops herself before she gets too excited, remembering, “Actually, I overheard the funniest thing today.”

“Oooh, some hot goss. Tell me more.”

“It was about you, in fact.”

“Me?”

“Yeah… apparently a couple of my beat cops find you hot.”

The tips of Jake’s ears tinge with pink. “Really?”

“Mhmm. They said you had the perfect glow up.” 

Her husband is one who loves to boast, speak of his sexual prowess or just how irresistible he is, but it’s always the setup to a joke. To actually hear people call him hot—she enjoys seeing how it makes him flush with embarrassment, his pupils blown and his fork falling to his plate. 

“I don’t know if it was a glow up, per se…” he trails off. 

“One of them said it’s too bad you’re married—I think you have an admirer, babe.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. “They know I’m married to _you_ , don’t they?”

“They do,” Amy says nonchalantly. 

“You sound so chill. Why are you so chill?”

“Because it’s funny, babe. You’re the hot guy of the precinct. _You_. My husband.” There’s a sharp glint to her eyes.

Jake leans closer as if to kiss her, before taking a bite of his food and moving back. “Didn’t know you were so possessive, babe.”

“If a guy said he thought I was attractive, but you knew you would always be the one to go home with me, wouldn’t you feel the same?”

He swallows. “I would.”

“So, those girls can dream about you all they want, but at the end of the day, you’re mine.”

She watches him calculate—where they are and how hard he can kiss her with it being publicly decent. Instead, his hand finds her knee under the table and gives it a squeeze, lingering, their gaze on each other transfixed. The rest of their meal is quiet words and unspoken thoughts of what they could be doing. 

And well, when they come back from their lunch break almost an hour late, no one thinks to say anything.


End file.
